


Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: Lucifer (Comic), Supernatural
Genre: Multifandom Badass Angels Meme, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let sleeping dragons lie, so the maxim goes, for a dragon's first instinct is always to respond with flame and fire, and it knows no moderation. Lucifer is no different.</p><p>Supernatural/Lucifer (Vertigo comics) crossover.</p><p> </p><p><i>Response to this prompt: Supernatural/Vertigo Comics; Lucifer, Castiel, Winchesters; Season 4/5 AU - all that stuff about breaking seals and the Cage was a convoluted plot by Heaven to bring about the Apocalypse - Lucifer had nothing to do with it, and was very surprised when a couple of hunters and a renegade angel showed up in Lux and tried to kill him. And after he was done being surprised, he got angry.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

**Author's Note:**

> So, I first read the [prompt](http://spiffy-things.livejournal.com/1736.html?thread=189896#t189896) for this back in... June. Yeah, I know. But honestly, starting this was really hard, I couldn't work out how, and then Lucifer's thoughts are always kind of incomprehensible and unpredictable, and the two fandoms are really, really different.
> 
> Also, if you want to read this somewhere where the text doesn't change size for some gorram mysterious reason, go [here](http://aceofannwn.livejournal.com/49560.html)

In Los Angeles, there was a piano bar.  
   
Its name was Lux, and it was no ordinary piano bar.  
   
Right now it was mostly empty, with the exception of the principle reason it was no ordinary piano bar.  
   
There was a well-dressed man seated at the grand piano, playing a mellow 1960s jazz piece. He looked rather like David Bowie, with same interesting planes to his face, but his eyes – his eyes were infinitely stranger and older, and when the light caught them seemed to blaze with some inner fire.  
   
The only audience to his skill was seemingly a young woman wiping down the bar across the room, but the pianist didn’t appear to care; mostly, he was playing for himself.  
   
As it happens, that phrase sums up his approach not only to the piano, but to the rest of existence in general.  
   
The fact that he was alone in the piano bar (but for the woman in his service) was not entirely irrelevant as a metaphor, either.  
   
   
   
The figure at the piano halted his playing suddenly, and tilted his head.  
   
“Mazikeen.” His voice was mellifluous and cultured. “It appears that we have guests.”  
   
The red-headed woman stopped wiping down the bar and looked at him.  
   
Their eyes met for a moment, and she gave a little half-smile from behind the white mask that covered half her face, and went to see who had the daring to tread within _this_ particular domain.  
   
 

 **:  :  :  :  :**

   
   
“Look, it’s not that I don’t trust Cas – but we’re talking about _Lucifer_ , Dean. There’s no telling what we’re getting into here.”  
   
“Sam,” Castiel said before Dean could, “I understand your apprehension, but if we can kill Lucifer now then we can prevent all the bloodshed and destruction that is otherwise inevitable.”  
   
“Come on, Sam,” Dean argued. “We’ve got the sword, we’ve got his location – all we’ve got to do is use them.”  
   
“I don’t know, guys,” Sam said uneasily. “Doesn’t this seem a bit… convenient to you?”  
   
“Convenient? You’re calling all the trouble we went through getting this thing ‘convenient?’” Dean asked disbelievingly.  
   
“Just think it through,” Sam insisted. “This is _Lucifer_. The Devil, Satan, the Prince of Lies, any of it ring a bell? And all of a sudden we’re supposed to kill him with just a sword?”  
   
“This is no ordinary sword,” Castiel began, yet again.  
   
“I know, okay? It just… doesn’t feel right, is all. How do we know this isn’t some kind of trick?”  
   
“Sam.” Dean met his eyes steadily. “Dude. You know Cas has been all over this, and it all checks out. I know it’s risky, but… it’s probably the best chance we’ve got.”  
   
Sam sighed in defeat. His instincts were still screaming at him, but Dean and Castiel had a point.  
   
“Fine. Okay. Let’s go kill the Devil.”  
   
   
   
So, apparently the Devil lived in a bar. A really high-class bar, but still, a bar.  
   
Sam couldn’t help but find this weird, although the name of the bar was enough to make him snort in spite of himself.  
   
(According to the information Castiel had gathered, Lux was in fact a transcendental locus of reality which Lucifer had somehow created for himself, but that didn’t stop Dean from saying, “A bar? _Seriously?_ ”)  
   
The first clue that it was all going wrong was the fact that when they entered, there was someone waiting for them.  
   
It all went downhill from there.  
   
 

 **:  :  :  :  :**

   
   
Really, Lucifer had expected something a little more imaginative than a pair of humans and a half-fallen angel wielding a sword of admittedly-high power. It was hardly worth responding to such a laughable threat.  
   
The moment that the angel – Castiel, Lucifer recalled – attempted to attack him – ‘attempted’ was the operative word – Mazikeen dealt with the other two.  
   
They had the look of hunters, but Lucifer had yet to encounter a hunter that had the slightest advantage over Mazikeen.  
   
Castiel attempted to charge Lucifer, but Lucifer hardly needed a sword to defend himself. He threw himself swiftly to one side, pivoting as he did so, quickly enough to grasp hold of the angel’s sword arm as he went past.  
   
Lucifer twisted the angel’s forearm back and outward, eliciting a gasp of surprised pain, and forced the sword from his grip, kicking it beyond Castiel’s range. Castiel tried to break free of Lucifer’s hold, and Lucifer let him, mostly to see what the seraph would do next now his plan had failed.  
   
To give him credit, the little angel valiantly stood his ground despite the fact that the sword was now out of reach, although his gaze darted around, looking for another option even though he was hopelessly out-classed and his collaborators were hardly better off.  
   
Some people never knew when to quit.  
   
“I tire of this,” Lucifer told him. “I suggest you desist.”  
   
Castiel ignored him, instead diving for where the sword lay on the floor.  
   
Well, he had been warned.  
   
And Lucifer was not inclined towards second chances.  
   
 

 **:  :  :  :  :**

   
   
There was a shriek of agony, high-pitched and inhuman, and Sam collapsed to his knees and tried in vain to block out the sound.  
   
It stopped abruptly, and Sam blinked around to see Lucifer holding the front of Castiel’s coat, Castiel sagging limply in his grasp.  
   
Lucifer did not even glance at the Winchesters, his eyes like fire, although the woman in the mask watched the brothers like a cat does a mouse.  
   
“Perhaps you will explain why you found it necessary to attack me.”  
   
The Devil’s voice was hard, his words short and clipped.  
   
Castiel gave him a ferociously defiant stare and said nothing.  
   
“Hmm.” Lucifer’s eyes were filled with calculation as he stared at the other angel, before letting him drop to the floor.  
   
“That was a remarkably ill-conceived plan. Far more subtle and thought-out plans against me have failed. I find myself curious as to what made you desperate enough to attempt it. Frankly I’m surprised at you, Castiel. For all your limitations, you never struck me as the type to do something so flamboyantly stupid.”  
   
He turned to face Sam and Dean, who were standing under the red-head’s watchful eye.  
   
“He had a good reason, you asshole,” Dean snarled.  
   
Lucifer eyed him.  
   
“Enlighten me.”  
   
“To stop you destroying the world,” Castiel rasped, his voice quavering slightly as he tried to struggle to his feet.  
   
“Ah.” Lucifer looked bored, suddenly uninterested in the conversation. “Has it occurred to you that I might have no interest in destroying the world?”  
   
“Bullshit!” Dean spat. “You want the apocalypse!”  
   
“And who told you this?”  Lucifer looked totally unimpressed.  
   
“ _Heaven_ ,” Sam said, before Dean could shoot his mouth off any further. He had no idea what was going on. “Heaven told us everything.”  
   
   
   
Lucifer’s eyes flashed gold-white.  
   
“You interest me exceedingly.” His tone had sharpened and his gaze was suddenly intent, although Sam had no idea why. “Who in Heaven is involved?”  
   
Sam exchanged a confused look with Dean.  
   
“Everyone,” Castiel said succinctly.  
   
Lucifer was silent for a moment.  
   
“Michael?”  
   
His voice was strangely flat.  
   
“The Commander-In-Chief’s M.I.A., apparently,” Dean told Lucifer contemptuously. “No one’s seen or heard anything from him, and from everything the God Squad said, they can’t find him.”  
   
There was a silence.  
   
“I see.” Lucifer enunciated the two syllables quite quietly, and his expression didn’t change in the least, but all of a sudden Sam’s hair was standing on end and his spleen was possibly trying to crawl further up into his body from the wave of sheer killing intent that washed over him.  
   
“I find myself suddenly curious about the state of Heaven’s internal politics,” said Lucifer. “Castiel. Tell me everything you know. Whoever is responsible for this deception will live to regret it.”  
   
 

 **:  :  :  :  :**

   
   
Sometime over a thousand years ago, a Trickster by the name of Loki Liarsmith had been born.  
   
Like all gods, he had been shaped by power and belief; his nature was a curious mixture of positive and negative traits, and of generous and wicked acts, so that all in all he was a strangely unpredictable creature with a predictable inclination only for his particular sense of justice.  
   
Peculiarly enough, despite his title Loki did not ever lie, but imparted truth in his own twisted fashion.  
   
No one had as yet noted this oddity of character.  
   
If they had, perhaps they would have wondered what cause he had to be named Liarsmith; and in following this train of thought, perhaps they might have eventually realised that deep down, from long before the Trickster’s birth, lurked a creature far more terrible and ancient than a mere pagan god.  
   
Fortunately, appearances are everything, and Loki is an excellent actor.  
   
No matter how much part of him may despise the fact.  
   
   
   
Loki was relaxing on a beach, enjoying the sight of bikini-clad women as much as the sea and the sand when he noticed a dark shape spiralling gently down towards him, his keen eyes picking out the shape of a bird.  
   
Loki recognised the raven as one of Odin’s two agents, and watched as it landed not far from him.  
   
This particular agent was named Thought. Loki had always liked it best.  
   
“Hey there, Huginn,” he greeted the bird. “What’s up?”  
   
The raven folded its wings and settled its feathers.  
   
“Change,” it croaked, in its raven-voice. “The potential for trouble. The creator of a realm named Lux.”  
   
Loki stilled.  
   
“A piano bar in California, right?” he asked finally.  
   
The raven bobbed its head.  
   
"He has become aware of plots and intrigues. Odin thought you deserved a chance to do something.”  
   
With that, the raven spread its wings, and flapped off without another word.  
   
Loki was silent for a long time, staring out to sea.  
   
Then:  
   
“Damn near-omniscient bastard. Reminds me of Dad.”  
   
Loki sat up on his deck chair.  
   
“I guess the game-changer’s back in the game. It’s all going to end in tears. Still, can’t say I didn’t warn them.” A beat. “Ah, the hell. Might as well drop by for a visit. Been too long since we had a chat, anyway. Screw impartiality.”  
   
A moment later the deck chair stood empty on the beach.  
   
A careful listener might, just for an instant, have heard the sound of wings. 


End file.
